


My Song Will Call You Home

by omelet



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 03:14:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1728974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omelet/pseuds/omelet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is an order to the underworld.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Song Will Call You Home

**Author's Note:**

> The Orpheus bit I was talking about at the end of the other fic. Even more inaccurate probably. Uh it wavers between un-serious and serious so ???
> 
> Unbeta'd.

Cerberus has fallen asleep.

Hades stares dispassionately into the middle distance as his fearsome guard snores and drools with two of his heads, the third currently face-planted into the ground.

It's unusual, to say the least. And Hades remembers the last time his animals did something unusual.

The echo of something strange far away reaches his ears. Not a voice, no, but a melody. A song.

He narrows his eyes before waking Cerberus with a light flick to one of his noses.

It sounds like a beckoning. Feels like one too.

He doesn't like it.

 

-

 

There is an order to the underworld. Humans may try to defy the gods in the living world but here, though there is only one rule, it is absolute.

No soul may leave the underworld.

 

-

 

"You are not supposed to be here."

Here it is, the source of the music. He had followed the song through the fields and across rivers until it became clearer and clearer, until he came across a man, sitting on a rock.

A living man.

The mortal turns around to look at him and nearly falls off in shock. It is then when Hades notices the lyre clutched tightly in his hands as the man jumps to his feet. "Are you Hades?"

"I am," Hades answers flatly. He stares at the man, who blinks back at him, looking like a frightened animal trying very hard not to look like one. He then repeats firmly, "You are not supposed to be here."

"I'm here for my wife."

"You can choose to return to the world of the living on your own or I will have you dragged back."

"Her name is Eurydice."

Hades suppresses an exasperated sigh, miffed at being so blatantly ignored. By now, he would have had Cerberus take him back.

To be honest, he has half a mind to toss him back on to Charon's boat himself.

But he decides against it, mostly because he is unwilling to exert the effort, turning around and following the path back to his throne, listening to the grass rustling and the footsteps following quickly behind him. He takes the long way back, walking slightly slower than his usual pace, holding on to the small sliver of hope that the man will simply tire and go away.

He is never that lucky.

When they arrive, Hades wordlessly takes his seat at his throne. The man stands before him, looking around the room as he shifts on one foot to the other and occasionally casting confused glances at his impassive face. Hades does not even want to soothe the man's anxiety, choosing instead to take advantage of this brief respite, closing his eyes to think.

"I'm sorry," the man says tentatively, "but are we waiting for something?"

"We are waiting for the one who will decide," Hades says after a long silence, his eyes still closed, "what I am going to do with you."

 

-

 

Many seasons have passed since Persephone first arrived. The gods thought the underworld would jade her in time, but she never fails to hold on to her brightness, always finding wonder in every flower that grows in the underworld, always managing to coax a smile out of him every once in a while. Though she often spends half of her time roaming around on her own, she spends the other half with him, accompanying him on his rounds, sitting beside him as he receives souls at his throne. It's something she chooses to do herself, even though it's clear that she doesn't take much pleasure from it. He has told her that she is under no obligation to stay despite her new title, but she insists on staying, nodding attentively and taking note whenever he answers her few questions about what he does.

One day, as he sat on his throne with a soul before him, he made a choice.

"Where shall this soul go?" He had said, as if he were merely pondering to himself, but Persephone knew that he was asking her. She blinked and looked at him, her eyes wide as her gaze shifted from him to the soul of a woman, a nymph to be exact. He and Persephone could see the nymph's life spread out before them, her running and laughing in a field with her sisters, her meeting a man with a lyre, her seeing a snake in the grass.

A life cut short. Hades had seen it countless times.

Persephone was silent. The nymph before her smiled faintly, her hands placed one over the other in front of her. Hades waited patiently.

"I remember you," she said quietly, slowly, lifting her head to meet the nymph's gaze. "Two summers ago when I grew hydrangeas. You told me that you had never seen such beautiful flowers. Even though everyone else thought they were unseemly."

The nymph did not speak and instead nodded, her smile brightening. It is an admirable effort, Hades thought to himself. There are few who try to look so composed, especially those like her.

Persephone looked to Hades again, as if to ask him for assistance. He simply tilted his head and turned up his palm to her. It was her decision, hers alone.

She straightened in her throne and looked at the nymph again. "Elysium, then," she decided, her voice firm. "You will go to Elysium."

The nymph bowed her head, smiling again at the both of them before leaving the room to be escorted. Persephone's gaze followed her out and Hades did not say a word.

Eventually, he stood to leave for his rounds, pausing to see if Persephone wanted to come.

Moments later, she stood and began to walk, her hair brushing against him as she passed him. He fell into step beside her as he followed her out.

 

-

 

"Who is this?"

Hades stands as Persephone enters the throne room. She eyes the visitor curiously as she passes him on the way to her throne. Slowly sitting down, she pulls her gaze away from the man to cast a questioning look to Hades. Hades resists the urge to shrug, instead sitting back down and turning to look back down at the man, inclining his head as if to cue him to speak.

"My name is Orpheus," the man begins with a wavering voice, his lyre sounding quietly under his nervous fingers. "I'm here to bring my wife home."

 

-

 

"All living things one day will return to nature," she had said quietly as they walked throughout the underworld. "And from their remains, life sprouts once again." She paused occasionally to examine the strange mushrooms that have begun to pop up along the rivers. She's terribly fond of them, often cooing over them like they're her children. "It is a wonderful process, like how Narcissus brought his eponymous flower into the world.

"Narcissus broke a nymph's heart and drove her to death."

"Yes, well -," she hummed thoughtfully, bending down to look at yet another odd fungus. He got a strange feeling from this one. "It just goes to show that even the worst people are at least good for soil."

Hades stared at the fungus. It looked like a pair of human lungs. "Quite," he managed.

Persephone fell silent again. They walked along the rivers, past the Asphodel Meadows, until they came upon the outskirts of Elysium. He stopped before she did and she gazed out to the fields, her eyes glassy.

"She didn't deserve to die." Her voice was small. "So I wanted her to be somewhere that would remind her of her fields." She looked at him. "Did I make the right choice?"

"Do you believe it was the right choice?"

"I believe it was the choice you would have made."

Hades turned to Persephone, her eyes bright, quietly angry, though she was not angry at him. It made him want to smile.

Instead, he looked away and looked out to the fields as well. "What would you have done?"

"Sent her back. But," he could feel her sharp eyes boring into his head, "that's not how things are done."

Hades nodded as they resumed their walk. "There is an order to the underworld," he affirmed. "Only one absolute rule."

A pause. "No soul may leave."

He did not miss the quiet sadness in her voice and nodded again. "No soul may leave," he repeated.

 

-

 

Of course, Orpheus pays no heed. "There has to be -"

"It would be best if you returned to the world above ground," Persephone speaks up, softly. Orpheus turns to her, his eyes desperate and pleading. Hades sees her falter before she recovers, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "There is nothing you can do. I'm sorry."

Orpheus is mercifully silent, but not for a moment does Hades think that he has given up. Persephone glances between him and Orpheus anxiously, waiting for someone to speak.

"Will you listen to a song?"

Hades narrows his eyes.

 

-

 

Just as he trusts Persephone's judgment, she respects the rules he has imposed. She hardens her heart and eyes when a damned soul pleads to her in passing, but she sheds a tear for every soul taken too soon from the world, for every soul that has finally found peace after a life of hardship; yet, she still sits beside him, meeting the eyes of every soul before they leave for their afterlife. She is as wise as any god, perhaps wiser, but he has been here much longer than she has. He never forgets that she still sees light wherever she goes, that she still grieves, and that she still believes in cycles even when she is here at the end of the world.

He does not want her to ever lose that, but sometimes, he finds himself wishing she would. Sometimes, he finds himself wishing she did not have to.

 

-

 

Orpheus plays on his lyre a song so mournful and desperate that even the souls who only hear its echoes weep for him.

Persephone cries quietly beside him, her head bowed so her hair can cover her face, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

Hades keeps his hard glare on Orpheus as he plays, as Persephone cries.

"You may retrieve her."

The music ceases abruptly as Orpheus jerks to look at him, astonished. Even Persephone whips around to look at him, her eyes wide and red-rimmed, her cheeks wet with tears.

"You will leave the underworld," he continues. "Play your song and she will follow behind you. If you turn around to look at her, even to try to catch a glimpse of her, before the both of you are in the living world, she will be lost to you. Do you agree to these terms?"

Orpheus looks at him, his brow furrowed. "How do I know you'll really let her go?" He asks cautiously.

Hades meets Orpheus' gaze. "You don't."

Orpheus' eyes flicker and he agrees with a hesitant but determined nod.

 

-

 

Hades remembers the first time Persephone came along on his rounds.

"What did he do?"

Hades had paused to look toward a small pond where a man stood within, reaching desperately for an apple that was just barely out of his reach and then bowing his head to take a sip of water, only for the water to mysteriously recede. "Tantalus. One of Zeus' sons. As I recall, he served his own son to the gods. Stole from them too, secrets, a golden dog, among other things."

"And him?"

"He killed his father-in-law, the first person to kill his own kin. Then he lusted for Hera."

Persephone pursed her lips. "So he's stuck on a flaming wheel for all of eternity?"

"The punishment is more for the former than the latter."

Persephone hummed ambiguously before turning away from Tartarus, Hades falling into step beside her. "They're awfully specific, the punishments."

"I did not issue these punishments," Hades admitted. "The souls destined for Tartarus receive their punishments directly from the gods they wronged."

"That's allowed?"

"These souls scorned them. If a strict punishment is not issued, I suppose the gods are afraid they would no longer be feared," he answered. "I do not send souls to Tartarus often. There are few who come to me that truly deserve it."

"Ah and there's Pirithous," Persephone pointed out with a hint of amusement in her voice. A man struggled in vain to free himself from a pair of snakes wrapped around his ankles, seemingly rooted in place. Her eyes twinkled when she turned to look at Hades. "So that's what you did to him."

Hades shrugged, keeping his expression carefully neutral. "I never said I was above the others," he replied diplomatically. He had heard rumors that some were saying that he was rash for punishing Pirithous for simply having the intent to kidnap Persephone - which is rather hypocritical of them - , but no one had dared to question him about it directly.

Besides, it's better to nip it at the bud, as Persephone would say. He knew that from experience; there was a reason Persephone, usually gentle and nurturing toward her flowers, took extra care to kick a particular spring of mint by the river Cocytus every time she passed by.

Persephone smiled fondly at him and Hades, sheepish, frowned instinctively.

They passed by the fields, quiet and peaceful. Persephone paused. Hades followed her gaze, looking out to a lush green meadow. Elysium. He wondered if she was homesick. To tell the truth, he was afraid to ask.

"Have you ever wanted to just let them go?" she asked suddenly. "Have you ever just thought that maybe what they get isn't what they deserve?"

He fell silent. As the god of the underworld, he is supposed to be just and fair. He is absolute. But beyond the reaches of his domain, he is powerless. He can only determine the next step forward for those who come; he cannot control who is to come.

_What they deserve is to go home._ He remembers thinking this, centuries ago. Years of ruling over the underworld have allowed him to push the thought away out of necessity, but it still returns. It will always return.

"Yes," he answered with the softest sigh. It is the closest thing to fatigue he is willing to show. "There are always souls who should not be here. Not yet."

Out of the tall grass, a child poked her head out and waved to a woman. Her mother, perhaps. "But they still come."

As the god of the underworld, he is not allowed the luxury of doubt. "It is a burden that I must bear."

He felt Persephone touch his hand, as if in reassurance. "Y'know, that's why I can stand beside you," she said with a soft smile. "I might not understand you, not yet, but I know you. You're always going to put people where they need to be. I know that you're always going to try to do what's best for them."

Her trust in him, sometimes he wondered how he ever came to deserve it.

 

-

 

Orpheus fails.

 

-

 

Hades stands on the edge of the fields of Elysium. In the distance, a woman stumbles forward, her arm outstretched.

"Why couldn't you let her go?" He doesn't need to look to know that it is Persephone.

Hades keeps his eyes fixed on the woman. She closes her palm, grasping at air. "There is an order to the underworld," he says faintly. It feels empty, even to his own ears.

"You gave him false hope," she accuses, her voice shaking angrily. This time, he knows she's angry at him. "You made him believe that he could have her back -"

"I did not make him believe anything he did not already believe."

Persephone stops, her breathing harsh. "What?"

"You once told me," he says quietly, "that I would always put people where they need to be. Do you still believe that?"

"Yes," she confesses like she is admitting a terrible truth, her voice cracking despite the strength of her conviction.

"Then this is one thing you must remember, if nothing else," he says. The woman shrinks inwards, her arms wrapping around herself. "Humans were always meant to fail. Their humanity makes them frail and mortal, unable to fight the gods and the rules imposed on them. They know this as inherent truth."

"It's unfair."

"And yet," he continues, "they do not care for it. They defy the gods and end up in Tartarus. They come here, against all odds, and ask me to break the rules for them. They choose to love, even though they know its price."

Persephone moves to stand beside him. "They can't help it," she mutters shakily. "It is not foolishness."

"Foolish or not, it does not matter. To them, to me, it does not matter that they failed." The woman falls to her knees. He thinks she is crying. "It matters that they tried, even though they knew it impossible."

They stand on the edge of Elysium in silence, watching Eurydice cry. "Why can't they have a chance?" Persephone asks softly, sadly.

"Because I refuse to cheapen their devotion," he answers steadily. "Because unlike the gods, who throw their failures into the pits of darkness, humans carry them like badges of honor. Their strength, their resilience, their courage in the face of inevitability, these are meant to be admired, not pitied. If they want to try, I will allow them to do so."

He feels Persephone press against his side, her cheek resting against his shoulder. It's damp. "Seeing his eyes," she whispers, "it reminded me of myself."

For the first time, he reaches for her hand. "Then you should know as well as anyone else," he tells her, "that he will find a way back to her someday."

Together, they walk back, leaving a field of hydrangeas behind them.

 

-

 

One day, Persephone hears the echoes of a quiet and familiar song, one she has not heard in many years.

"I hear an Argonaut is joining us today," Charon says to her as he boards his ferry. "Hades has always sent them to Elysium."

Persephone looks down at her snowdrops and smiles to herself, listening to a voice join the song in the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> May edit later because this has been a wip for months until I decided that it has to get done idk
> 
> But uh thanks for reading!


End file.
